


The Script Has Already Been Written.

by RoboBaby



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Hollywood, M/M, Rating May Change, Reincarnation, the glamorous world of film production
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboBaby/pseuds/RoboBaby
Summary: Soma Asman Kadar is the son of a wealthy businessman descended from royalty. To escape a family who barely notices him, Soma moves to America to try his hand at film production in Hollywood. Everything is fine until he meets Arshad, the imposing white-haired executive producer, who seems strangely familiar.
Relationships: Agni/Soma Asman Kadar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	The Script Has Already Been Written.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this multiple years ago but I can't seem to kill my love for these characters so I decided to edit it and post it. I have like a whole thing planned out so I might even write more for my own sweet, guilty pleasure. I know I am one of five people left on earth who care about this pairing so please, please talk to my about them. I'm dying.  
> As an important side note, please keep in mind that I have no idea how movie production works and you should absolutely not fact check anything I write. Thanks.

It was the middle of a blistering summer. The horizon was crimson with the last tendrils of daylight hanging lazily to the skyline of a vast and beautiful city. Soma was standing above a raucous crowd, spitting and jeering and calling out for blood. He was angry, or perhaps excited, maintaining a protective stance against the noise of the mob below him and shouting something, though he couldn't tell what. A sound caused him to look over his shoulder, to see something, someone-

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.  
The alarm pulled him forcefully out of sleep. Soma groaned; it was that same dream again. It had been coming to him more often since he had finally moved away from home. His days spent taxiing between coffee shops to meet his next networking target combined with the restless nights plagued by this strange vision were beginning to weigh him down. The exhaustion krept up on him more each day, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his enthusiastic attitude. He couldn’t let himself lose momentum though, and today was not the day to dwell on it. Today was going to be its own special challenge.  
Anxiety washed over him at the thought. A new country, a new apartment, and a new job: everything he could possibly need to distance himself from his family as much as possible. Maybe even enough to carve out his own life, free from the expectations and limitations of his bloodline. Heaven knows how difficult it had been just convincing his father to let him move, let alone embark on his crazy pipe dream. He had a lot to lose now, and plenty of opportunity to fail and embarrass himself.  
Soma kicked off his blankets, freeing himself from the tangle of fabric he had somehow wrapped himself in as he slept. The sheets were soaked with sweat. As hot as it was in Los Angeles this time of year, nothing had compared to the sticky Indian summers he was used to. Somehow, when he dreamed of that simmering heat, he would sweat even in his sleep. Nothing a shower couldn’t fix. 

When he was clean, dressed, and caffeinated, he stood in the doorway, ready to face the uncertain new task ahead of him. Soma Asman Kadar, he thought; Hollywood Movie Producer. 

...

The city rushed past as Soma wrestled with the mixture of anxiety and excitement in his stomach, tapping absently at the lock of the taxi’s back door. The building he stopped in front of was corporate, its mirror-finish windows reflecting the early morning sky. One more steadying breath, and Soma marched inside and straight up to the reception desk. Almost every surface in the lobby was white marble and the corners of the room were adorned with lush ferns. Soma thought briefly that it was how he might expect an American spa to look, or maybe a fancy hotel.  
The receptionist was typing diligently at her computer, so Soma took in the wall of pictures adorning the wall behind the front desk, displaying movie posters and signed pictures of actors he only vaguely recognized. The clicking stopped.  
“How can I help you?” The receptionist asked with a polite smile.  
“Hi!” He blurted, a little too loudly. “I’m Soma Kadar, I have an appointment for 8:30?”  
She looked down and continued clicking for a moment before finding what she was looking for, and smiled again.  
“Mr. Kadar, your meeting is on the tenth floor in conference room A. Can I get you a drink while you wait?”  
Soma rocked nervously on his heels, but maintained his confident smile.  
“No, I think I’ll just go up, if that’s okay with you.”  
“Of course sir, the elevator is down that hall to the left.”

When the elevator doors dinged open on the tenth floor, he was immediately confronted with two huge frosted-glass doors across from him, each emblazoned with a gold letter “A”. When he peeked inside there was nobody there yet, but the sleek silver table was set with a menagerie of bagels and coffee. 

He sat down near the front of the long rectangular room and poured himself a cup, bouncing his knee and listening for the sound of the elevator. He checked his watch and considered taking a bagel, but his stomach churned with anxious excitement and he decided against it. After a few more minutes of quiet anticipation, there was a ding and the muffled sound of conversation as people in suits began filtering in. Soma stood to greet them and shake hands as he introduced himself to each new person.  
“We’re all very excited to be working with you, Mr. Kadar.” Chirped a blonde woman as she held out her hand. Soma took it gladly.  
“And I’m very excited to be here!”  
“Mind if I sit here?” She asked, motioning to the leather office chair next to the one Soma had been standing behind. He looked around the room and saw that most of the table had been filled as people settled down.  
“Not at all,” he responded, taking his own seat. The woman followed, claiming a bagel and a cup of coffee before turning towards him.  
“I’m Beth, I manage the location scouting team for local and domestic filming. That means if you want anything shot on location, I’m your best friend. First time producing?” She asked.  
He liked this charming woman already. “Yes, but how hard could it be? I’m really just a piggy bank,” he said, jokingly.  
“Careful,” she laughed. “It’s a lot more work than you might think.”  
Before he could respond, however, the door swung open again and the conference room came to a hush, and in walked a tall man carrying a leather briefcase with a strap over his shoulder. Soma was instantly struck by the man’s long, bleach-white hair, which he had pulled back into a half-bun at the back of his head. The man closed the door gently behind him, and Soma followed him with his gaze as he walked around the table to the front of the room, making some brief small talk as he passed his seated coworkers. This guy is fancy, Soma remarked internally; his suit looked expensive, charcoal grey silk with a dark green dress shirt and shining gold cufflinks. He had an air of power and grace about him that made it immediately obvious that he was the one in charge here. Their eyes met for an instant and Soma fought back a sudden feeling of intimidation that swelled in his chest.  
“As many of you know,” The man began, setting his bag on the chair at the head of the table and pulling out a laptop, “I’m Arshad Iyer, your executive producer. Welcome to the first production meeting for our project with the working title ‘The Right Hand of God’”. 

Soma thought briefly that Arshad was a fitting name for someone so dignified: wise, devoted, true. But somehow it didn't sound right. It took him half a second lost in thought to realize his gaze had been met. 

“I’d like to welcome our assistant producer, Mr. Soma Asman Kadar. This is your debut in the film industry, is it not?”  
“Oh, uh,” Soma stuttered, trying to find his words. “Yes, I…” He trailed off, confidence lost. Arshad gave a polite smile and turned back to the rest of the room. “If you would, each of you have a copy of the itinerary proposal in the folder in front of you.”  
Soma slouched in his chair as he talked on.  
“Don’t let him scare you,” Beth whispered. “You’re the one with the money, so technically you’re his boss.”

Soma pushed down the thought that the money was, in fact, his father’s. He opened his folder and pretended to read the many dense lists and spreadsheets, but he found it impossible to focus on anything but the man commanding the room. Every few minutes he would catch Arshad’s stare, an unreadable look on his face. His eyes, Soma noticed for the first time, were grey like storm clouds. 

Why did he feel so…. Sad, all of a sudden?

Although he had only ever known Arshad from the negotiations between him and his father over the phone, Soma couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen this man somewhere before. He racked his memory for an instance when he had seen Arshad’s face, in a picture or a video call maybe…. But all he could come up with was the sight of Arshad’s name on paper or in the scrolling credits of a film. And yet, they continued to match each other’s gaze, as if maybe Arshad recognized him, too.

...

That night, alone in his apartment, Soma tossed feverishly in his sleep as the scene played out again in his mind. Oppressive heat, a blood-red sky, the sounds of yelling… and when he turned, he met a pair of familiar silver eyes.


End file.
